


What Dreams May Come

by Felurian1



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Dreams, Endgame Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, possible happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22387690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felurian1/pseuds/Felurian1
Summary: Since Q died, Eliot's been chasing these dreams. Moments when he can believe that Quentin is alive again, snatched fragments of time when he can say what he should always have said. Something always keeps pulling him deeper.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rizcriz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/gifts).



The party was great. Eliot didn’t like to admit it, but Todd made a mean cocktail these days and the physical kids really knew how to make a room bounce. Literally, obviously. Adding actual stars to the ceiling had been a genius move, even if it did mean one of the first years had to be on permanent firefighting duty. They deserved it, the tiny naïve bastards. 

Eliot wasn’t drunk, that was the important thing to remember. That was what he’d told Margo anyway so he was a bit unsure why she seemed to be holding him up or why they were going upstairs now.

“El? Hey, bitch, you could help me out here instead of staring at the ceiling like a demented bunny rabbit”

The room spun lightly as Eliot managed to drag his gaze away from a star that seemed to be quietly imploding and look Margo in the face. He giggled.

“That’s funny because the bunnies…. The bunnies…”

“Yah, because the bunnies. Come on, one foot in front of the other, we’re gonna go have a nice lie down okay?”

Eliot shook his head violently, making the wallpaper blur in a way that made him feel a teensy bit sick.

“No, I am fine, just need one of those pick me up tonics and I will be good to go”

“Uh-huh, good to go where sweetie?”

Eliot didn’t try to dignify that with an answer, just spun around and went to head back down the stairs towards what looked like a new kind of bouncy castle, but his legs wouldn’t work quite right and somehow he ended up sliding down a couple of steps and catching himself on the bannister and it was all very unfortunate, especially with Bambi standing there raising far too many eyebrows at him.

“Look-“, he started, waving a finger in her general direction, but then there was a sort of whooshing sound and suddenly he was lying on his bed surrounded by very comfortable pillows.

“No fair”, Eliot mumbled half-heartedly, “Know I can’t do counter-charms when I’m drunk”

“I thought you weren’t drunk?”, Margo replied from beside him, stretching her legs out and resting her head on her arms like she owned the place. Which she kind of did.  
Eliot just groaned in response to that, then leant over and was quietly sick into the pocket dimension he’d created for exactly this situation.

“You gotta stop doing this El, I’m serious. I know you miss him but-“

Eliot cut her off immediately. “Don’t. I am doing what I have to do, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eliot could almost hear Margo rolling her eyes, but she didn’t say anything for a few minutes after that, which was about enough time for him to be sick again, drink some water, and lay several curses on Todd for making snowballs at a tequila party.

Time passed, and Margo was playing with his hair, teasing it out and then flattening it down again, Eliot letting his thoughts go as blank as the moon, as quiet as the pillows behind his head. So when he spoke his voice was blurry and soft, so only Margo could hear.

“I still talk to him sometimes”

The hand in his hair stopped for a moment, then started up again.

“Like you can see him? Cause that ain’t normal baby, you know that right?”

Eliot paused to figure out what he wanted to say. “Oh don’t worry, like, I know he’s dead. But if I close my eyes then sometimes he’s right there. Is that so wrong?”

Margo sounded thoughtful when she replied. “It’s not wrong if you know it’s not real. But you ever start thinking he’s back for real, and you call me okay? I don’t wanna lose you again El. We need you.”

Eliot didn’t respond, and after a few minutes Margo pulled away to let him sleep. Before she left, she worked a quick spell, just to check. Not hoping, of course – she was Margo, High King of Fillory, she knew better than that – but just in case. But there was nothing. No ghost, no extra energy in the room. Just one drunk, passed out lover boy, and the empty space between them. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Soft brown hair falling over someone’s eyes, tickling at his cheek, breath quiet and hot against his lips, one soft gasp and then--_

Eliot opened his eyes. He was lying on the couch in the cottage, conducting music with his fingertips and sipping from a loose gin martini with a curl of lemon rind slipping round the rim. The sun was just setting outside the window, giving everything a soft warm glow and casting curving shadows that set off his jawline just perfectly, though he said so himself.

In his sleep, there were no barriers to what was possible. When the Monster had lived inside Eliot’s body, he had created all kinds of rooms and worlds for El to explore, distractions to keep him quiet. And some of them were still there. 

El wasn’t alone in the cottage, obviously. Books were scattered messily across the floor, ripped off bits of paper and notes tucked into them. But of course, that was because Quentin was there.

At the start, this had been all Eliot was able to do. Just Q, sat there, head dipped over a dusty old book wearing one of those long blue sweaters that looked so ratty but felt so soft. You couldn’t even see his face like this, just that long sway of hair falling over his forehead, then swept back again by an impatient hand.

For a while, a long while, that had been enough. Sure, Eliot could be a greedy bitch sometimes, but just this, seeing Q sitting bathed in the aftersun glow. This was enough. Until one night Eliot had said something, and Quentin had looked up and smiled, and it wasn’t enough anymore. 

“Hey Q”, Eliot said, quietly, not disturbing the peace in the room.

A moment passed before Quentin looked up, an exasperated smile flickering across his face.

“I was getting somewhere with that you know”, he replied.

“Shh I know, you’re working on something very important, like always”, Eliot teased, and stretched out a hand to reach for Q, beckoning him over.

Quentin pulled a face but obeyed, crawling a few feet til he was sitting beside Eliot on the floor, back leant against the edge of the couch. The curve of his slim shoulders sat perfect and warm against El’s leg, and Eliot was filled with a sudden desire to thread his fingers through Q’s hair. But that was impossible, even in a dream, so he reached down to just tuck a loose strand behind Q’s ear as he spoke.

“When we get done with this whole apocalypse thing Q-”

Quentin made a questioning noise and tilted his head back to look up at Eliot, the movement making his hair cascade backwards onto El’s lap, dark brown eyes finally raised to meet his and Eliot’s control snapped. He dipped his head down, watched Q’s pupils go wide, inches separating their lips and then, and then--

The dream shattered, and Eliot woke up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This time, it was rum. With magic back available it was a matter of minutes to take an excursion to Barbados to stock up, and barely anyone noticed that El was mixing everyone else’s drinks 50/50, and his a little more like 90/10. Well, 100/0 if he was being exact, which he wasn’t.

“Todd told me you make the best cocktails in Brakebills”, someone said enthusiastically from behind Eliot, causing him to almost spill his glass in horror before he composed himself.

“Ah first years. So much to learn. Here, hold this”, El sighed dramatically, passing the girl his drink while he reached for the drinks cabinet. He did have a reputation to maintain, and he could make this drink with his eyes closed. So he did.

The girl gasped, then hiccuped, and El opened his eyes, turning with a mojito glass in his outstretched hand.

“If you don’t want it--”

The girl took the drink and thrust his own glass back into his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re drinking dude, but that will make you real happy, or real sleepy, or real dead, wow!”

Eliot flashed a cutting smile at her, making her take a tiny step backwards.

“We can only hope. You can go now. Goodbye.”

The girl pulled a face and turned back to the party, and Eliot rolled his eyes. Happy, sleepy and then dead sounded just what he was after, actually, so he downed his half full glass, picked up the bottle, and vanished into his room.

It only took a few more swallows before the drink got to him. With a horrible tilt of the world, Eliot slumped back onto his bed, passed out cold.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Questioning brown eyes, a hesitation, the feel of two day stubble under his hand, the curve and angle of a jawline, sweet pale lips as someone breathed “Eliot”--_

Eliot was sitting on a rock looking out over some water. Behind him, the spot where he’d been crowned High King of Fillory was bare and empty, and the forest around him was quiet. Leaves rustled, and then the steady crunch of sneakers on gravel approached him.

El didn’t have to look to know who it was. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to risk breaking the silence, so for a few minutes they just sat there together, breathing in the cold summer air. 

“I like coming back here too”, Q said. Eliot’s breath caught in his chest, Q had never started the conversation before, it was like… almost like he was real.

He swallowed a sob before he replied. “It reminds me of you. We were so fucking stupid when we came here, you know that? High King Eliot the Spectacular. That ended well.”

Eliot hadn’t meant it to come out bitter, but it had, and Q didn’t reply immediately. Filled with the fear that he could have vanished, El risked a glance sideways, but Q was still there, just looking out pensively onto the lake.

“It wasn’t stupid. It was innocent. We had all this ahead of us”, Q said in a low voice, eyes sneaking up to look at Eliot before he went back to looking straight ahead.

On impulse, Eliot moved his hand to cover Q’s, letting the warmth of him penetrate into his skin, contrasting with the rock around them.

“I’d trade it all, if you’d come back. Just come back to me Q, I need you”

Eliot turned his body towards Quentin, letting him hear the ache in his voice, the tension bleeding through into the taut curve of his spine as he leant closer.

“You never said it, did you?”, Q replied, and this time he turned too, letting their bodies slope towards each other as Eliot took in the question.

“I thought you knew”, he mumbled, knowing it wasn’t adequate, knowing he had failed in this one incredibly important thing.

“Say it now”

Eliot allowed himself to meet Quentin’s eyes, saw the gentleness there, the permission. He reached one hand up against Q’s face, cradling him, Q closing his eyes just for a second before opening them again. And then his mouth tipped towards El’s, lips brushing together, Q’s breath on his tongue, almost, almost---

This time when Eliot woke up, it was to his door splintering open, Margo standing in the ruined frame, an axe in her hand.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”, she spat, raising the weapon as though she was about to tear someone apart.

“Huh what hmm?”, Eliot managed, half dazed from the dream and the drink before it.

“The room was shaking like a high end vibrator, that’s what! Seriously El, what the fuck?”

Eliot’s vision span from sitting up too fast and he rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “I don’t know, Margo. I was sleeping, maybe I… I don’t know, manifested magic by mistake.”

“Like a five year old you mean?”, Margo snapped back, and Eliot finally managed to take in her appearance. 

“Okay okay I’m sorry. I’ll… put up an anti-magic field next time, okay?”

“Fine. Whatever. Go back to sleep, you need it”, and with that Margo was gone, muttering something about assholes disturbing her beauty routine.

That was the second time.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third time, Eliot knew what he wanted to do. He didn’t try alcohol this time, it wasn’t working. Instead he tried death. It seemed much more poetic anyway. Lying on his bed, he picked up one of the cupcakes Josh had made for him, no questions asked. Eliot liked Josh right now. 

Before he had finished the second cake, the effects overtook him. It was like falling asleep, but deeper, better. Like the real world was becoming the dream, and he was sinking into reality. 

He barely even heard the thud of his body hitting the mattress.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dream opened with the explosion. This dream had come and gone over and over in Eliot’s mind, his imagination filling in the details that Penny’s descriptions could not. In front of him, Quentin fiddled behind his back, then threw a bottle into a mirror. It didn’t matter. That wasn’t why Eliot was here.

While the magic began to ripple, he could control the dream. Time slowed. 

Q saw him.

As glass shattered and rained around them, Eliot stepped up to Quentin and took his hand. Quentin looked almost surprised, like the touch was more overwhelming than all the destruction surrounding him. 

Eliot spoke urgently this time, his voice husky and sure, his eyes meeting Q’s and holding them, drinking in the depth of them like it was the first time.

“I love you, Q. I know there’s no time, and I left it too late. But you deserve to know. I will always love you”

Soft brown hair brushed over his face as he leaned in to Quentin’s body, one hand guiding the kiss, revelling in the roughness of the skin under his palm. A moment of hesitation, Q’s eyes meeting his with questions, with acceptance. With love. And this time, their lips did meet, mouths opening to let their tongues dance electric sparks through each other's souls. Eliot would happily have died for this.

“Eliot”, Quentin murmured into his mouth, El kissing the syllables away one by one.

“Eliot”, more forceful now, the sound all around him, the dreaming starting to dissolve.

“I won’t leave you”, Eliot promised, sure he could stay this time.

“You won’t have to”, said Quentin, and Eliot just had time to wrap Q in his arms as the world burst around them, and then his eyes flew open and he was back on his bed.

A breath filled the silence. A gasp that was almost a sob.

Dancing in the air around Eliot’s bed were playing cards.

“Quentin?”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt in the #AVMV list - I couldn't write them a happy ending, but I got them close.  
> Beta read by @cursed_eli


End file.
